Fictober Day 1: Prompt # 9 “will you look at this?”
In a strange way, Scully is reminded of their first case tonight. However, the roles are reversed. Mulder stands in the doorway that adjoins their motel rooms, holding his right side tightly and grimacing.
She is frozen in place, taking in his stiff form and careful breaths. He’s still wearing his slacks from earlier in the day, but his button-down shirt and tie have been discarded, leaving only his white undershirt covering his top half.
“Is everything alright, Mulder?” she asks, eyes traveling down to where his hand grasps at his torso.
He frowns. “Will you look at this?”
She nods, stepping out of the way so he can enter her room. Scully guides him to the foot of her bed with a gentle hand on his left shoulder and he sits.
“Let me see,” she says softly. Mulder complies, lifting the side of his shirt slowly and revealing an angry red gash on his right side, just under his ribs. The injury is approximately five inches from top to bottom and the skin around it is puffy. Scully’s clinical eye detects the infection immediately and she hums in sympathy.
The cut extends farther up than Mulder can lift his shirt, so she steps closer to him. “Here, you need to take your shirt off.” She takes the other side of his shirt in her hand and together, they gingerly work it off of him. With the entire injury exposed, Scully can see that it is long, but not deep. Luckily, he won’t need stitches, but the cut will need to be cleaned and dressed.
“Well, doc, do you think I’ll make it?” he asks, feigning a sense of humor. She smiles wryly, but it’s clear that he’s in pain, sweat glistening on his forehead. She runs her fingers through the hair on the top of his head, trying to comfort him.
“I think you should pull through as long as you do everything I say,” she says lightly and feels his forehead with the back of her hand. No fever, luckily. “How did this happen, Mulder?”
“The suspect I was tailing yesterday stuck me when I cornered him,” he explains. “I thought it would heal on its own, but I must not have cleaned it well enough last night,”
Scully crosses the room, rooting through her carry-on until she finds her organized stash of medical supplies. It’s in a case that’s a bit bigger and much more detailed than the average first aid kit, compiled over the years as she’d learned how often either, or both, of them get injured during cases.
She walks into the bathroom, calling over her shoulder, “Come with me, I need to wash the cut out before I can dress it,” As she’s washing her hands with expert efficiency, counting to 20 in her head, Mulder follows her in and sits on the edge of the bathtub.
If not for the cut that’s oozing on his side, Mulder looks like he could be preparing to take a bath. As a fan of baths herself, Scully’s thoughts drift momentarily to the idea of her body fitting against his in a tub. She leans around him to turn on the tap, forcing her thoughts to remain clinical and professional.
“You’re lucky that they didn’t go deeper with whatever they used to hurt you,” she murmurs, wetting a washcloth under the warm water. She begins dabbing at the cut and Mulder hisses in pain, eyes squinting shut on reflex. “Sorry, sorry,” she apologizes, trying to make her movements more gentle. She offers her free hand to Mulder and he takes it, squeezing it tightly as she cleans out the rest of the infection.
“Son of a bitch…” he mutters, letting go of her hand and shaking his head. “Touching it now hurts more than when it actually happened.”
She nods, pulling gauze pads and antibiotic cream out of her medical bag. “I’m not surprised, it’s pretty infected. You’re lucky it’s not worse.” She applies a bit of the cream to the gauze. “I’m just going to clean it a bit more, and then I’ll dress it.” He nods, taking her hand again.
Scully dabs at the wound as carefully as she can, spreading the cream on it. Mulder sighs in relief when she is done, and is silent as she expertly dresses the cut in a bandage.
“I’ll take a look at it in the morning and clean it again. Hopefully, you’ll be feeling better tomorrow,” She informs him.
Mulder stands slowly, prodding the area around the bandage experimentally. “Thanks, Scully. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he smiles at her and she returns the look, washing her hands again and drying them.
“Well, despite my best efforts, you still manage to get scraped up every time we leave DC,” she admonishes lightly. They walk over to the adjoining door and Mulder contorts his body to look down at the bandaged wound.
“Hey, do you think this’ll scar? Some women think scars are sexy,” he winks at her.
“Hm,” Scully hums in response but neither confirms nor denies her own opinion. “I guess we’ll have to find out,” She stands on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Goodnight, Mulder,”
